Dumbledores Daughter: Finding the real me


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14. the funeral.

I sat in front of the mirror, and re-did my makeup. The black eyeliner winged out and and the blush complimented my already rosy complexion. I slipped on my dress and pulled the zipper up. My crutches sat beside my door, but remained ignored for the time being. I went back to my table mirror and started doing my hair.

Once the curly mess was tamed, it was pulled into a delicate side-swoop. A curled piece of my bangs hung down and I looked elegant. A POP! Sounded in the living room and Fred was there, ready to escort me. I swiped on a final touch of blood red lipstick and lunged for my crutches. My hand swiped them but I fell back. Fred came running in and picked me up, holding me steady will getting my crutches. I looked at my unpainted fingernails while he was busy and wished they were yellow and black striped. They expertly painted themselves and I was ready. I had learned how to use accidental magic and bend it to my will so I wouldn't be accused of under aged magic. I finished my look by adding a Hufflepuff bow, and plodding to the fireplace.

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